It’s uncomfortable, to put it lightly.
Living with someone you kind-of-not-really-but-totally-do consider an ex, of sorts. Ex-boyfriend, ex-lover-- whatever-- and your kind-of-not-really-but-also-totally new boyfriend, new lover-- whatever.
Steve and Stephen, in the tower, with him, Tony Stark. See what I mean? Uncomfortable.
Uncomfortable on the best days and downright intolerable on the worst ones; most tend to fall under the latter category, and today was looking to be that way too, which sucks.
Tony is at the kitchen counter, furiously pressing the button on his coffee machine in hopes that it’ll give him coffee faster so he can get back to his workshop sooner and be away from the two fools causing hideous amounts of tension around him and wherever they went. Which happened to be wherever Tony was, more often than not. Tony isn’t usually one to complain about getting this type of attention from pretty goddamn attractive men, but there’s a first for everything he supposes.
“What number cup of coffee is that, Tony?” Steve asks with his do-good voice, smooth as butter but with that authoritative edge it never really lost even in their most intimate moments before their-- their split, Tony thinks. He has half a mind not to respond, but he’s trying to be the bigger person here for once and it’s really only because he has an audience now, Stephen Strange, who isn't a fan of the patriotic super soldier-- he’s not about to give the wizard unspoken permission to start ganging up on the man. You can’t say Tony isn’t trying to be civil after everything that happened. He deserves some brownie points, he thinks-- especially since it's still a little painful to even look at Steve directly yet but that's something Tony will never analyze because why would be do that to himself? Bah. He had so many more important things to think about than Captain Heartbreaker.
“It’s cup number nunya, Cap.” Tony responds, and he hears a sigh being exhaled from the super soldier. He knows the man is leaning against the fridge, arms crossed and staring at him with the most exasperated expression he can muster, which is pretty impressive actually, Tony recalls.
“Do you usually keep such obsessive count over his beverages?” Strange asks, not looking up from the book he has open as he sits on a stool, leaning on the extended part of the kitchen counter. His voice has such a natural sardonic edge to it that Tony nearly smiles in familiarity.
“I have to because he doesn’t.” Steve responds and Tony, as he pulls his now-full mug towards himself, can’t decide if it’s an insult or something awful like Steve caring, or worse, Steve still caring even after-- after everything.
“How are your buddies doing at the compound, Cap? You chat them up? That Starkpad I gave you should make it real easy for you. FRIDAY can show you how, if you want. I’m sure they miss Mommy.” Tony says, turning around and taking a much needed sip from his mug, wishing so much to get lost in the aroma of caffeine a little longer.
“They’re doing fine.” Is Steve’s curt reply.
“Oh, but they’re not happy, are they?” Tony asks, not at all genuine in his curiosity. “They’re not happy you came running back to spend time with Daddy, right? I guess they really are my kids; hating dad tends to run in the family.” He sees Steve’s jaw clench and his shoulders tense but doesn’t move beyond that.
“They know why I’m here.” Steve replies.
“Are they aware of how pointless this is, though? I’m sure they must be, otherwise they wouldn’t be so disapproving.” Strange pipes up, attention still mostly on his book but Tony knows he’s always aware of everything else, such as this conversation for example. You don't get to be Sorcerer Supreme if you don't pay attention.
Steve, always the bigger man, simply presses his lips together in a thin line as he regards Dr. Strange at the counter but doesn’t offer him any sort of reply.
“Aaaand I’m heading back to the workshop. Holla if you need anything, but keep in mind I don’t do world-saving on the weekends.” Tony says, eager to leave the tension. “Don’t follow me.” He adds, and he hates that he has to say that at all but this is his life now he guesses.
His life now, which consists of his super-soldier ex-something sticking around Stark tower to try and… make amends, which would involve a lot of feelings and Tony doesn’t do feelings and he really wishes that Steve would just take one from the Stark Book of Dealing With Problems and pretend nothing happened, which would be entirely so much easier and less stressful. To make it worse, though, is that Dr. Stephen Strange is also at the Stark tower-- which isn’t abnormal these days, but they’re not exactly together and sailing those waters also requires feelings and he just doesn’t have the time!
“Boss,” FRIDAY says as Tony sits down at his workbench, pulling up digital blueprints of various spider-themed suits. Something to keep his mind off of everything else.
“Yes, baby girl?” Tony says aloud, expanding one of the schematics.
“Steve Rogers would like to have me remind you that he still wants to have a chat with you.” FRIDAY says, and she sounds reluctant because this isn’t news. She’s had to give this same message to him at least once a day for the past week that Steve’s been here in the tower with him.
“He just saw me in the kitchen, what else does he want?” Tony asks, frustrated already.
“He wants to talk to you in person, alone, I’m assuming. About what happened in Siberia--”
“M’busy.” Tony cuts her off, feeling slightly guilty for doing so, but he can’t-- absolutely cannot think about what happened then. He has nightmares about so many things and that moment where Steve dropped everything and left and-- he can’t do it. Can’t. Won’t.
“I’ll let him know.” FRIDAY says, quietly. Tony forces his attention wholly on the spider suit schematics in front of him again, getting lost in his work-- the closest thing he has to peace these days.
Hours pass, maybe more, maybe less, and Tony’s been through nearly every AC/DC song in existence and he’s making great, great progress on the suits he’s working on, he just has to figure out how to fit a parachute in them without making it look ugly but a yawn overtakes him before he can finish the thought.
“You need to rest.” A deep, baritone voice says in such a mechanical way that Tony absolutely believes Stephen Strange was a legitimate doctor before he became a wizard. He’s so focused on the sound of it that he’s not mad that Stephen entered his locked workshop with one of his fancy-shmancy portal thingies.
“Thanks, Doc, but you know what they say,” Tony says, turning his head and smiling at the exasperated sorcerer. “There ain’t no rest for the wicked.”
Stephen somehow manages to look just as exhausted as Tony feels and he keeps himself from stepping back automatically when the doctor walks towards him, stepping into his space.
“The rims of your eyes are red and your complexion is pale. It’s time to sleep.” Strange says, and he raises a hand to brush his thumb against Tony’s face and Tony can’t help but pull away on instinct. Stephen pauses in his movements before pulling his hand away to clasp the other behind his back.
“Sorry,” Tony says. “I don’t do well with the whole touching-affection-blah stuff.” And he walks away from the sorcerer, back to his bench to start closing down his schematics and blueprints, saving all his progress in a neat little folder he can access from his Starkpad in his room.
“Will you come to my room tonight?” The doctor asks, and his voice is so deep it rocks Tony to his core.
“Technically they’re all my rooms; I haven’t built you a floor yet and even then I--” Tony says, exhaustion muddling his brain but talking and rambling has never seemed to find their own brakes-- that is, until he feels a body so close behind him and breath on the back of his neck.
There are hands on his waist, light and unforceful, and it makes his skin burn underneath.
“Tony,” Stephen whispers against the back of Tony’s neck.
Tony has to suppress a shiver that runs up his spine, squeezing his eyes shut. He’s gotten intimate with Stephen before, this isn’t new-- but he can’t quite keep the panic at bay this time. There’s too much going on already and as much as he’s sure Stephen wants to help, this isn’t a way to do it.
As if sensing his rising heartbeat and knowing it’s for the wrong reasons, Stephen steps back and gives Tony his space, frowning when the engineer lets out a relieved breath and nearly slumps forward.
“Sorry, I--... Just, uh, sorry.” Tony tries, wanting to let Stephen know it isn’t his fault that Tony’s like this. “Bad… bad time.”
“You know where I am if you need me anytime tonight.” The sorcerer says and the amount of understanding in his tone should be a crime. “Goodnight, Tony.”
“Night.” Tony says, and he can feel when Stephen’s presence leaves and he’s once again alone. It’s a heavy, harrowing feeling but not one he was unused to. Eventually, he hears the whirring of his smaller bots leaving their charging stations in favor of wheeling around but he pays them no mind. Instead, he stares at the workbench, the space between his hands on the table but doesn’t quite see them. He truly is exhausted, but rather than thinking of going to bed he thinks of going to the communal kitchen and getting yet another cup of coffee.
So that’s what he does, grabbing his empty mug off the table and heading into the elevator that closes its doors automatically and heads him to the correct floor without so much as a word from him. God, he loves FRIDAY so much sometimes.
“Kitchen floor, boss.” FRIDAY responds. “I already started the coffee machine for you.”
“Love you, babe.” Tony says as he steps out of the elevator, walking down a small, dark hallway and rounding the corner to the kitchen only to freeze in his tracks at the sight before him.
Steve Rogers is sitting at the counter, leaning heavily onto it with his fingers clasped together with his own hot mug in front of him. His blue, blue eyes look up and meet with Tony’s immediately and Tony has to look away just as fast, bee-lining straight for the coffee machine because for all he is, he isn’t a coward-- and he loves coffee entirely too much to not fill his cup up at least one more time.
“Have you eaten anything?” Steve asks, shattering Tony’s hopes of them not speaking this time. His voice is soft but the question isn’t rhetorical or insulting, and Tony knows this all too well.
He doesn’t want to answer, doesn’t want to give Steve the power in this particular area of his life, but old habits die hard. “Does coffee count?” Tony flashes a grin at the super soldier and a peace sign and finds it amusing when Steve sighs deeply.
“Let me make you something real quick. You should have something in your stomach before you go to bed.” Steve suggests and he’s already pushing himself off the stool and walking around the counter, heading towards the fridge.
“I want bacon and eggs.” Tony says. “If you’re gonna do it anyway, I mean.” Because if Steve’s not going to let him go to bed hungry, then he’s going to make something Tony wants to eat at least.
“Gotcha.” Steve says, pulling out the half-empty carton of eggs and package of bacon from the fridge. He’s quick to get to work, moving within the kitchen so naturally that Tony is reminded of all the nights that Steve had cooked for him and the rest of them team when they all lived here, and then the other nights that Steve had only cooked for him during similar circumstances when Tony had forgotten to eat altogether.
It’s quiet, surprisingly so. These moments between them in the past were always filled with mindless chatter and little jokes and quick-witted remarks, but not tonight. Tony settles into the same seat Steve had just abandoned and tries not to think about anything. He has his mug of coffee in both his hands and he sips from it constantly, hearing the way Steve moves the metal pans on the stove and the sound of the spatula against the hot surface as he fixes the bacon and flips the eggs.
“How’s your buddy? Barney or whatever.” Tony says because for all he wished that Steve wouldn’t talk to him, he can’t quite handle the silence in this particular situation.
“Bucky’s been doing alright. I check in with him twice a day and the others once a day to give me an update. They’re careful around him but he and Nat seem to be getting on just fine.” Steve answers truthfully, because for all Captain America is, he isn’t a liar.
“That’s good to hear. No gruesome assassinations recently, then? Everyone else still alive?” Tony raises a brow and his own voice is light in jest.
Steve smiles, and Tony focuses on it. “Nah, nothing yet.” He responds.
Tony had been avoiding looking at the captain this entire time but now that he is, he can’t stop. Steve is wearing a t-shirt that’s entirely too tight for him and sweatpants that thankfully aren’t. His hair is still somehow perfectly combed and the lack of sleep doesn’t show on him like it does on Tony. There are dimples on his cheeks when he smiles and they’re still there.
“Here you go, fresh from the fridge.” Steve jokes as he sets the plate of bacon and eggs in front of Tony, cooked to perfection and Tony hadn’t realized how actually hungry he was until the wonderful smell of food hit his nostrils. He’s immediately digging in with a small sound of appreciation and his body immediately relaxes at the feeling of hot food going into him.
Steve, meanwhile, leans on the counter across from Tony not too far away at all, and watches him with a small smile on his face full of nothing but endearment and fondness and Tony makes a point to not look at him.
“Staring is rude, Cap. Didn’t your mom tell you that? Was that a rule in the 30’s? Or did everyone just stare at everyone else back then all the time.” Tony prods, hating how Steve’s smile widens. “Sounds uncomfortable.”
“Sorry, I’m just kind of surprised you don’t have a drop of oil anywhere on you. I thought you were in your workshop this entire time?” Steve asks and Tony rolls his eyes.
“As often as I do it, I don’t always just build things willy-nilly. Sometimes I have to plan it out on, uh, on paper first.” Tony responds, even though his blueprints and schematics are on projections rather than paper because he’s being environmentally friendly that way but he's not about to explain that.
“Seems a bit out of character-- your memory not what it used to be?”
“Hey now, watch what you’re saying, Grandpa.” Tony points his fork at Steve with a quirked brow but they’re both well aware of the grin on his face, complemented by Steve’s own smile.
Tony watches as Steve’s blue, blue eyes watch him; they take in Tony’s face first, and then move to his neck and shoulders and arms and focus on his hands and Tony knows exactly what he’s searching for.
“Chill out, Rogers. I haven’t done anything stupid yet.” Tony says but now he feels self-conscious under such close inspection. Steve is looking for marks; bruises and cuts or wounds of some sort.
Steve looks relieved. “Thank you for keeping your promise.” He says, and for some reason that flares up something negative in the engineer.
Tony rolls his eyes, grumbling some sort of remark as he leans back in the stool and pushes the almost-empty plate away from him, appetite gone. “I didn’t hurt myself because of that stupid promise.” He wants to clarify. “Not everything I do is for you, and everything I do now is none of your business.” He’s angry now, angry enough to get off the stool and want to head back to the workshop for another sleepless night because now he’s too angry to even try and lay down for any amount of time.
“I’m still worried about you--” Steve says and he follows Tony around the counter, concern lacing his voice.
“Yeah-fuckin-right, Rogers. This is just you trying to make up for all that bullshit from before, as if that’ll change anything.” Tony snaps, moving to walk out of the kitchen but he’s stopped by a strong hand gripping his bicep and pulling him back.
“I never stopped worrying, Tony!” Steve exclaims, pulling his hand away when Tony rips away from him.
“Bull shit, Steve!” Tony yells, turning on the super soldier with a deadly look in his eye. “You can’t say that when you left me in that broken suit in the middle of fucking nowhere! ” He hates, hates how his voice cracks on that last word because after all this time he still hasn’t dealt with the baggage that whole situation left behind and now it’s forefront and he can’t do anything about it. “You can’t suddenly act like you still care just because you feel bad!” Tony continues to yell, poking a finger into Steve’s firm chest.
“I do care, Tony.” Steve says, and he’s gripping Tony’s wrist with his thumb pressing against Tony’s palm and he doesn’t let go when Tony tries to pull his hand away. His voice is even, a huge contrast to the way Tony’s own voice sounds. “I never stopped caring, and I’m sorry, Tony, about before-- there’s nothing I can say that might make it okay, you’re right.” He says, and he follows Tony’s receding steps until Tony’s back hits the counter.
Tony refuses to look at the super soldier but it hardly matters because he’s trapped in against the counter and Steve is still holding his hand hostage and this whole situation is entirely too much .
“Is this what you wanted to talk about? Apologizing about ditching me on prom night and thinking it’s alright to show your face again after that?” Tony says. “It isn’t okay.” He adds.
“It isn’t okay, I know.” Steve repeats, voice so soft and his thumb rubs circles into Tony’s palm.
“I hate you.” Tony says, risking sounding like a goddamn dumb teenager.
“You hate me.” Steve nods, and he wants to kiss the wrinkles between Tony’s brows away-- so he does. He leans forward and presses his lips to Tony’s crown and he feels Tony momentarily stiffen before relaxing entirely and leaning into him.
Tony’s eyes are closed, feeling the warmth of Steve’s lips on his forehead and how warm his hand is and how warm his body is in front of him and it’s so, so, still so familiar.
Steve presses his forehead against Tony’s and they’re breathing for a moment and doing nothing else. Tony blames his lack of sleep on how compliant he’s being with all of this because he’s aware this shouldn’t be happening but there’s a part of him that’s just… okay with it, because in truth he missed this. He’s missed Steve-- and he’s never going to tell him that. Never going to tell anybody except his robots.
“What do the others think you’re doing here?” Tony asks, opening his eyes to stare at the front of Steve’s plain shirt.
“They know I’m here to apologize. They don’t entirely agree, but it’s more of a personal thing for me. We’re all still very much under house-arrest basically but they seem to be getting on with everyone else just fine even so.” Steve answers.
Tony hums in acknowledgement, thinking about the others and how full the tower felt in comparison to now and does his best not to miss it as much as he really does.
“Why is Stephen here?” Steve asks suddenly, and of course he would. Tony should’ve guessed that he would. Tony is halfway to answering the question when someone else answers for him.
“Because you are.” Stephen says and both heads whip around to look at him. Tony looks a tad startled and the feelings of guilt are starting to rise in his gut before he squashes them down and reminds himself that he and Stephen aren’t… exclusive? Whatever, relationships-blah-blah-blah. Thankfully, Stephen seems to understand that too as he doesn’t look the least bit angry right now. Maybe just a little bit annoyed, but he always looks that way anyway.
Steve steps away from Tony but doesn’t release his hand, his eyes trained on the sorcerer. “You’re here because I am?” He asks, wanting to confirm.
Stephen has a look on his face that makes it seem as though he’s talking to a child. His tone says just as much. “I’m not nearly stupid enough to leave Stark alone with the man who abandoned him in Siberia to die.” He says, and hearing him say that sentence out loud is enough for Tony to close up again and feel cold again and he pulls his hand away from Steve’s.
Steve looks at him, then back to the doctor when Stephen adds, “And for comfort too, I suppose, because you’re unable to be of any use in that area as well it seems.” And to add insult to injury, he holds out his hand towards Tony while the other hand is still very much behind his back.
With only a second’s worth of hesitation, Tony steps away from Steve and towards Stephen but makes a point to ignore his outstretched hand entirely. Stephen closes his hand and returns it back to his side without so much as a blink.
“M’tired.” Tony mumbles, because he knows the quickest way to end this is to just let Stephen put him to bed like he originally wanted to do. He’s leaving the kitchen now, heading to the elevator on his own.
“You don’t know a thing about him.” Steve says and he’s surprised by the amount of anger that bubbles up in him, especially when the sorcerer quirks a brow at his words.
“Maybe not, but it’s pretty clear that’s the point here, Captain.” Stephen says, giving the super soldier a once over. “The last time someone knew anything about him, he got beaten and abandoned and left for dead.” And the doctor turns on his heel and heads to the elevator and out of sight, leaving Steve alone in the dimly light kitchen.
“FRIDAY held the doors for you.” Tony remarks when Stephen enters the elevator with him. They’re automatically heading towards Tony’s penthouse floor, and he says a mental thank you to his wonderful AI once again.
The doctor hums in response, adding “I apologize for not arriving sooner.”
Tony scoffs, some sort of humorless smirk on his face. “My relationship issues aren’t your problem to solve, doc. You're not that kind of doctor.”
“I’m aware. I can’t solve a problem that doesn’t want to be fixed.” Stephen says, and he doesn’t look at Tony when the other shoots a glare at him.
“I don’t like what you’re implying.” Tony snips.
“Hardly anything to imply considering you had the power to boot him on day one of this mess and you still have yet to even think about the option.” Stephen quips back, looking at Tony this time.
“You’re both horrible.” Tony says, immediately rushing out of the elevator as soon as the doors open, hating how the sorcerer kept up with him easily.
“I believe that says more about your bad taste than about us.” Stephen responds, following Tony into his bedroom, watching as the other tears off his shirt and tosses it to the side without a care.
“You’re right. All the men I like are full of shit, it’s just my type.” Tony shoots another glare at the doctor who only grins in return. Tony strips off his pants and leaves himself in his boxers, not at all shy in front of the sorcerer, especially not when he feels Stephen come up behind him again, close enough to burn.
“What is it you’re hoping for, I wonder?” Stephen whispers against the skin on Tony’s neck and this time Tony really does shiver. He feel’s the doctor’s hands slide down the length of Tony’s sides, making him twitch from the feeling of cold fingers on his bare skin.
Stephen gets more bold when Tony doesn’t pull away, gripping the engineer’s hips and pressing his mouth to Tony’s shoulder, feeling Tony’s warm hands cover his own.
“Is it perhaps you want him to do this to you? Hold you close and kiss you like it still means something?” Stephen says, dragging his teeth against Tony’s shoulder and hearing the other whimper.
“Shut up.” Tony says, turning around in Stephen’s arms and pressing his mouth against the doctor’s in a heated kiss. He feels the other grin against his lips before pushing back into it, immediately slipping his tongue into Tony’s mouth.
Tony feels long, slender fingers slide into his locks of dark hair and grip and pull his head back, exposing his neck forcefully with a moan. Stephen’s teeth are immediately on his throat and jaw, his other hand gripping Tony’s hip hard enough to bruise as he presses a leg between Tony’s thighs. Tony let's out a long, keening sound, letting himself be handled so roughly.
“I wonder how he used to touch you; surely he was much more gentle than I am.” Stephen murmurs, his deep baritone voice vibrating against Tony’s skin and sending jolts of arousal to his core. He grinds his hips down on Stephen’s thigh, more than half hard in his boxers already.
“He seems the type to just take it slow with his bedmates. Like he would plant kisses all over your body and tell you exactly how beautiful you are, skin flushed pink to the touch.”
Tony groans again, closing his eyes because yes, yes, Steve would do that. Would kiss him so slowly and so deeply and make sure that not an inch of Tony’s body wasn’t covered with his affections. A deep contrast to the fiery, intense ride that was Stephen and his power complex who preferred biting and scratching in place of kissing and holding.
“If he were to kiss you, I can’t imagine you’d say no to much more after that.” Stephen says and he shoves Tony backwards and watches the engineer flop onto the bed. There’s the sound of a belt and a zipper and Tony throws his arm over his eyes and doesn’t watch Stephen get undressed, only looking at the sorcerer when Stephen is above him and grabbing his arms to pin above his head and invading his line of vision wholly.
“You want him above you like this.” Stephen voices, leaning down and dragging his lips against Tony’s jaw and purring his approval when Tony tilts his head to expose more of his neck, entirely submissive to the doctor. “He has a beard now, too. I know you’ve imagined how it must feel now on your skin.” He drags his own beard across the expanse of Tony’s clavicle, hearing the engineer gasp beneath him and attempting to squirm.
“Stephen--” Tony tries as the doctor uses one hand to hold Tony’s wrists and the other to reach for the bedside table.
“No,” Stephen corrects and he watches as Tony’s whole body tenses when he presses two newly-slicked fingers right against the engineer’s entrance, rubbing circles. “I know which one you want to say.”
Tony whimpers and then gasps when Stephen breaches him, pushing two fingers inside with no hesitation.
“St-Steve,” Tony stammers out, struggling to even say the name but he throws his head back while Stephen stretches him open, curling and spreading his fingers inside Tony in ways that make the billionaire cry out.
“Correct,” Stephen praises, and he pulls his fingers out too soon for Tony to pull any more pleasure from them. Instead, he adjusts and lines his cock up with Tony’s prepped asshole, pushing the head of it against that slick ring of muscle.
“God,” Tony breathes out and Stephen lowers his face down so his mouth is just grazing Tony’s.
“Beg for it, Tony. Beg for him.” Stephen whispers, and he presses his cock a bit more against Tony’s entrance for emphasis.
“Ngh-- Please,” Tony starts, and his eyes are closed, squeezed shut against all of this.
“Please- who, Tony? C’mon, don’t be stubborn.” Stephen teases, biting at Tony’s jaw.
There’s hesitation and the smallest hints of discomfort, but eventually Tony swallows, licks his lips, and speaks.
Tony doesn't have time to form any further words because Stephen thrusts into him, sheathing himself entirely in one movement and forcing a cry out of the billionaire’s mouth loud enough to make his throat raw.
“Oh, God--” Tony yells as Stephen begins to fuck into him at a relentless pace already, knowing full well Tony was never able to match his fervor and now he has a better understanding of why.
“He would go much slower than this, right? He would ease you into it, wait for you to be ready and whisper about how well you're doing, isn’t that correct?” Stephen says, only a little breathless. He squeezes Tony’s wrist when the engineer doesn't immediately reply.
“Y-yes, yes, God yes,” Tony whines, eyes still closed and there is a pain to each of the doctor’s thrusts but it’s complemented by the pleasure he’s feeling, too. Tony wraps his legs around Stephen’s waist and locks them at the ankles, pulling the sorcerer closer even still.
“You haven't stopped thinking about him since he’s arrived. I noticed the change in you that happened when he came back. I know you have, too.” Stephen says, pressing his mouth to Tony’s neck and sucking angry marks into his skin, marking it up for all to see in the coming days.
Tony lets out a moan, low and needy and desperate.
“You’ve thought about him fucking you into the mattress like this, haven’t you? Thought about how he might feel, if it’s any different now.” Stephen puts his mouth to Tony’s ear, his breathing just as labored. “If he were to walk in right now and take over, you wouldn’t stop him, would you?”
Tony wails out Steve’s name as he’s pushed over the edge by the doctor’s words, the image of Captain America fucking recklessly into him, holding him down with his large hands and saying his name breathlessly.
“Steve,” Tony calls as he comes down from his orgasm, body twitching and jerking as Stephen continues to rut into his over-stimulated body now. “Steve, Steve, Steve…” Tony repeats, like some sort of mantra, the edges of his vision going black and everything getting blurry.
He hears Stephen groan as the doctor climaxes and feels the liquid heat of his come fill Tony’s insides up and it makes the engineer feel dirtier than he already does. Then Stephen overtakes Tony’s mouth with his own, dominating him entirely as he rides out his own orgasm by rolling his hips against Tony’s ass.
Tony’s too tired to move when Stephen extracts himself from him. He’ll have to settle for showering when he wakes up because right now he can’t be bothered, pure exhaustion ripping Tony’s consciousness right out of his hands.
There’s a cold hand pushing the hair out of Tony’s face and caressing his cheek and through hazy eyes, Tony knows it’s Stephen.
He knows it’s Stephen that helps him get comfortable in his bed and pulls the blankets over his tired, fucked body and he knows it’s Stephen that presses a kiss to his temple in a weird and rare display of affection.
Tony knows it’s Stephen-- but he can’t help but wish it were Steve, and he hates that.